


Give you what you like.

by ThralionExists



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, I don't need to say anything else, Modern Nightclub, Thralion, Thranduil/Galion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThralionExists/pseuds/ThralionExists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil hates Strobe Lights. Unless of course, it's Galion gyrating under them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give you what you like.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrinceSircastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSircastic/gifts).



> This is dedicated to Lauri, the biggest shipper of this MESS that I have ever met. I'd say don't judge me, but you're going to anyway.

Thranduil did not like strobe lights.  
The relentless flash highlighting the ugly faces of the disease ridden strangers, who were either too young or too old to be gyrating against each other, was enough to make him want to hurl.  
But he wouldn't give up- he would always get what he liked.

The dancers 'accidentally' bumped into him as he slowly moved across the sticky floor, looking for anyone that would take his fancy and make this night slightly more bearable. Something broken tonight, he thought. They were easier to ensnare with false promises of 'one and only', and a chance to sleep with someone such as he. It was a cure for boredom like no other.  
He could borrow the emotions for the time it took to have his way with, and make his way away from, people. 

The hall was littered with promotional leaflets- though why by choice normal people would visit 'Erebar' he didn't know. It was common, and the wine was awful. With a sneer he stepped into the fresh air or the dark night, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out the Marlborough Lights.  
Shit.  
With a inner sigh he turned, blonde hair stinking of ethanol and hairspray disturbed by the hot breeze of Mirkwood summer.  
A black lighter was shoved in front of him, wiggling. He accepted of course, lighting it and turning to meet the body.  
Ice blue eyes met a neck, slowly travelling upwards. This stranger was /taller/ than himself, and it irked him.  
“What's your name?” He eyed the flawless being before him. Blonde hair as long as his, though not as straight. Pointed features. He looked down. A black shirt fully buttoned, with dark jeans and darker boots. Eru, those trousers left little to any imagination.  
This is what he liked.  
“You're Welcome.” He spoke,  
“Your Mother must not have loved you.” He raised his groomed eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. Thranduil did not thank strangers.  
“She's dead.”  
“We have so much in Common.” He pouted in challenge. Why was this stranger not fawning over him like so many others?  
Ah.  
“So are you straight?”  
“Are you going to give me that back?” They said in unison. Thranduil bit out a laugh, slowly handing the lighter back, taking a long drag of the lite. A larger hand dragged across his own, electric waves cutting his breath short.  
“I'm Galion.”  
“Thranduil.”  
“I'm not surprised.”  
“Oh?”  
“Even your name is extravagant. Look at you.” Galion nodded at him, a smile on his own lips.  
“You like what you see?”  
“It's okay.”  
Thranduil's eyebrows nearly reached his hairline.  
“Well what do you like?” He asked, voice probing .  
“I'll show you.” Cigarettes were discarded as he was lured inside, following this Godly stranger moving gracefully back into the darkness of the Erebar dance floor.  
Strobe lights did not make Galion ugly. This, Thranduil liked. 

Hands found his hips, pulling them chest to chest, slowly moving behind as they moved to the irregular beat of whatever tune. It was lost to him.  
The scene was in his head- he wasn't sure how this would end. Eye contact never broke, neither male wanting to give up the power in what they had going on. Thranduil could feel Galion harden against him as he ground harder.  
“If I show you what what I want-”  
The lights would never turn on if he had his way, the stars in his eyes enough to light what he needed. Drunken arms slid up to black-clad shoulders, “I'll give you what you like.” Thranduil finished, speaking lowly into the ear above him.  
Galion could call him his tonight.  
And again they were moving, pushing through the crowds of people, but not seeing any of them. It was just the two of them now.

They slid into a cubicle joined at the mouth, Thranduil's leg hoisted up and wrapped around slim hips, low moans escaping them both. The silk shirt was pulled up, Galion's hand exploring every muscle, teasing every inch, the other jerking open tailored trousers.  
His lips were swollen, being bit and sucked and tugged. He tried to take control, but it was futile. He was incapacitated by desire. 

A draft ran across the bare skin of his thigh, though when it happened he couldn't recall, both legs now firmly held up with one long arm his own arms in pale hair surrounding him. Galion was swift and ready, and Thranduil adjusted quickly, as though he was made for it.  
His head tipped against the cubicle wall and mouth parted in an 'O' (that Galion would later describe as 'illegal'), his hands clenched in bliss. Lets hope they never turn on the lights, they both thought.  
Pursed lips tried to swallow the inevitable moan that was to come soon, a heat as hot as famous Smaug fire raged across his skin, getting more intense as Galion moaned into his ear.  
A tongue found his ear, teeth slowly dragging on the tip, sending the weaker blonde tumbling over the edge, Galion following not a second later.  
White light clouded Thranduil's vision, taking over every sense available. He shuddered against the other, who was no less shaken than he, dragging damp hair from his face.  
“So this is what you like.” Came panting out of his mouth, playfully.  
“I said I would show you.” Galion lowered Thranduil carefully, putting himself away. Thranduil was a hot mess. It was /exactly/ what he liked.  
Snaking an arm around his now dressed waist he lazily kissed the shorter blonde, pressing his forehead against him.  
“You even groan like a Diva.” He said lowly, a smile creeping onto his face. Thranduil furrowed his intact brows and narrowed his eyes.  
“I am /not/ a Diva, Galion.”  
“If you say so.” The cubicle opened, both men stepping out as if nothing had happened. Nobody outside noticed as Galion took the smaller hand in his own, and certainly nobody noticed as Thranduil gave an honest smile.  
Was this love? Maybe someday. Love was a word that he had never learned. Galion would surely be a passing consort, a fun ride while it lasts. At least that is what he would tell himself.  
In the Galion's mind he had not been looking for slightly broken, yet had found it anyway. He would call Thranduil his, tonight.  
By now it's early in the morning. Thranduil had got what he wanted, and this time, did not want to forget.  
Each man would signal a cab to pull up, and they would head in different directions. This is what Thranduil was used to.  
“I suppose now you will look for me again?” He asked as they stood on the pavement, looking into green eyes. He hovered closer, tilting his chin in victory as a pale hand took hold of it.  
“Yes, dear.”  
And with that Galion left, slowly moving backwards, looking as well kept as when they had first met.  
Thranduil liked it.


End file.
